


An Unsundered Heart

by NorsePearl



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Other, Paternal Instinct, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorsePearl/pseuds/NorsePearl
Summary: Late at night the Emperor of Garlemald finds himself awake as he tries to comfort his feverish infant son and lull him to sleep, all while his own thoughts wander. Becase even after all these years, Emet-Selch is conflicted just about how to feel about it all.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	An Unsundered Heart

Despite logical conclusions and perfectly acceptable options, at least in his own esteemed opinion, it seemed that there was to be no sleep for him tonight.

  
  


For now the large chair the Emperor of Garlemald was seated in provided ample comfort at least, and the nearby fireplace offered generous warmth to tired limbs that ached to be stretched out comfortably in bed, preferably flung over the soft form of his Empress while he buried his face against her neck and let precious sleep overtake him. Yet he knew that were he to try and lie down flat, the toddler that clung to him would most likely resume its wailing. Over the eons Emet-Selch had fathered several children in different times and nations, and this… this never changed, did it? For some reason the child had reached for him amidst its crying, refused to settle in any arms but his now during the fever that had struck the small body. The boy would be fine, the  chirurgeons had stated. All they had to do was to ensure that he got proper rest and made to drink enough. But still the child was tired and distraught, unable to sleep, refusing to stop its wailing as it wriggled in his arms, turning this way and that as he was forced to shift his arms and grip on it. 

So it was that the Emperor found himself unable to delegate this duty to anybody else for the moment. Oh, how he longed for the comfort of bed.

  
  


It was not really his son, the Ascian had told himself this over and over ever since the Empress’ belly began to swell, as she had held his hand against it so he could feel the movement inside her... and also when he had held the child in his arms and looked down at the boy. This was the child of the body that served as his current vessel. Yet, the allure was too strong and he found it impossible to quell these feelings that he had thought had been sundered along with Zodiark all those years ago.

Those small fingers wrapping around his larger one, the inquisitive golden eyes that stared up at him with such innocence, despite the fact that the child was broken like the rest of them…

It was a conflicting feeling, that was certainly clear to him. One part wished to ignore the boy, as there was no need to bond with him. The Empire had an heir, and its Architect could focus on the more crucial parts of his plan in order to usher in the next Rejoining. There was no lack of capable people to raise him and set him up for success, by all means. Still, no matter how many times Emet-Selch had told himself that, repeated it in his mind on a regular basis, he found himself unable to keep away from the cradle. How often hadn’t his vessel seemed to lead him to the nursery, coming at a halt next to it? It was what seemed the most logical explanation for his actions as he was peering down at the moving little bundle that let out what he assumed was a pleased sound at the sight of him. Yet… no matter how busy he was with running his Empire, slouched over his desk as the oil in his desk lamp was running low… how was it so difficult, nigh…  _ impossible _ to utter the word ‘no’ when his wife delivered the babe into his arms?

  
  


He knew better. He  _ should _ know better than this. Yet as the months passed even he found it more and more impossible to keep away from the child whenever he had a spare moment between all the seemingly endless duties and tiresome things on his ever growing agenda, and now it had gotten  _ attached _ to him. Why else would the broken little thing refuse to calm down lest he held it? A clingy, noisy thing with such a dim soul, very much unlike how a child sired by his real body would be. An utter disgrace, a…

  
  


As the little body shifted restlessly in his arms and made a slight whimper Emet-Selch was brought out of his current train of thought, and his brows furrowed, readjusting his careful hold on the child. Seemingly satisfied, at least for now and it resumed its whimpering, it blinked up at him with its large, innocent eyes, making another sound that made him aware of that lump in his vessel’s chest which he so often tried to ignore. It was... inconsequential.

It was still too early for the child to start talking, but that didn’t mean it certainly didn’t  _ try _ , babbling incessantly away and with great consternation as small fists attempted to grab for the lock of white hair dangling at the side of his sire’s head, with no concern about its short arms and the futility of said motion. Emet-Selch peered down at the little fractured being, his eyes slightly narrowed as he reached up to stroke some of those light locks of hair away from the child’s face, letting his fingers carefully trace the side of its face. At least until the little boy grabbed at his finger, clutching at it to bring it to his mouth.

Wordlessly and impassively he let the child bite on his finger, ignoring the slight pain from the teeth that were starting to come in, his golden eyes studying the little shattered soul in his arms that made no sense whatsoever. So why did he  _ feel _ this way? It wasn’t a complete life, it was broken, so horribly sundered still after all these years, and it wouldn’t be truly alive until he finished carrying his burden all the way to restore those that had been lost...

  
  


These thoughts never seemed to disappear, nor did he ever expect them to if they hadn’t by now. If they did, then there wouldn’t be a need for any of this anymore… no more Rejoinings, no need to bring their sundered God back. Mayhap he would have been content to live life after life, to continue taking vessel after vessel as the eons passed them by to play house with these broken little beings. His own little game of pretend that he had already gone through so many times before. What a foolish thought… it made him snort slightly, his gaze moving from the teething child to the fireplace where the logs burned brightly and warmly. 

His fellow Unsundered had commented on it, how he was getting too into these roles he was playing over the years. A cautionary tale to not get too attached, that it would only lead to further heartache until they were triumphant in their grand goal. Of course they were right in a fashion. Such disappointment from these creatures and their ignorance of just how lackluster their trivial existences were. A mere mockery of what they had once been, and they couldn’t even  _ remember _ . It was made even more apparent as he lived among them, took part in their lives and tried over and over to see something, the smallest hint that there was something  _ worthy _ in them, just a fragment of their former greatness. Of something he found familiar and comforting. But no matter how much he looked, how much he searched... all he could see were their obvious flaws, and it made him sick to his stomach, to the point where even his vessel could surely feel it as well as his disgust for it all. But it was necessary, wasn’t it? This thing he was building required his personal touch, the Architect needed to be present to steer his Empire in the right direction in preparation for the coming Rejoining as it crept ever closer. He would shoulder these burdens, both physical and psychological, it was worth it no matter how heavy they became. No matter how many times he had to be utterly disappointed as he played his part. When would they have been rejoined enough for them to finally remember? To  _ live _ again? He saw the change slowly as time passed, but even if they weren’t as dim as they had been after Hydaelyn had destroyed everything, they were still so unlike their former glory. 

Imperfect. 

Incomplete.

How could these fractured existences ever hope to replace what had slipped from his grasp all those eons ago, ever truly be what he wanted? It-

  
  


_ Something _ was pressing against his chest, briefly starting Emet-Selch ever so slightly as he tensed for just a moment, turning his head away from the direction of the flames in the fireplace that had enthralled him, his eyes turning downwards.

Finally… the boy had fallen asleep, his head having lulled forwards against the chest he was resting against, his pudgy fingers clutching onto the soft silks the Ascian’s shirt and drooling over the finger he had been previously chewing on. A few seconds passed as Emet-Selch merely stared, all before he remembered to breathe, his chest rising and falling, all without the sleeping child stirring.

Somehow he was still aware of the sound coming from the fireplace, the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall… yet they were not as prominent in his ears as the soft breathing from the infant, the warmth of the little body nestled against him in its long needed slumber, a little shattered creature that sought solace in his very presence. In him. Slowly he withdrew his finger from the child’s mouth, wiping it idly off on his already messy shirt before he carefully ran his fingers over the back of the child’s head, leaving featherlight touches there. So broken, oh… so terribly broken, and yet… he didn’t know just  _ what _ to think.

All he knew was that when he saw the child’s hand tighten its grip his shirt and felt the small face bury itself further against his chest, a comforting warmth clutched at his vessel’s heart.

Or... perhaps it was his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the psychology behind Emet-Selch, trying to imagine just how he would regard the broken world around him and all the loss he obviously deals with. There's so much hurt in his voice, and you can understand WHY he did all the things he did despite the fact that they were horrible and so very wrong. The end of 5.0 really showed so many aspects to his character, and I can't help but want to dip into his mind even if the angst gets real. Most of all I just love giving him some moments of fluff and sanctuary, because he obviously needs it and wants something comforting to hold onto.
> 
> Do you love Emet-Selch fanfics? Do you want to connect with other writers and artists? There is a Discord for you! Come [join us](https://discord.gg/2PcQEJE)!


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